


Chicken Soup for the Vulcan Soul

by creampuffer



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: First Time, M/M, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-18
Updated: 2011-05-18
Packaged: 2017-10-19 13:36:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/201444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/creampuffer/pseuds/creampuffer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kirk is sick with a cold.  Spock makes sure his Captain gets what he needs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chicken Soup for the Vulcan Soul

“Spock, it’s just a cold. No big deal. I promise.”

No matter what his Captain said, Spock could not, in good conscience, allow Jim to suffer unnecessarily. Despite it being “just a cold.”

“Captain-“

“If you’re going to be serving me chicken noodle soup,” Jim waved at the tray Spock was currently holding, “ I’d prefer you calling me Jim. Because you’re doing this as a friend. Right? Not out of some weird sense of obligation as my First?”

Friend. Spock felt the word did not accurately define the type of relationship between them. It was something more, something Spock had spent many nights in a meditative state trying to define. And to forget. Illogical. But he was not prepared to allow such deeply rooted emotions the chance to surface if he could not define them. No. He could not lose control when his friendship with Jim was at stake. Still, Jim needed the reassurance. So Spock would comply. “Correct.”

“Well then, you were saying?”

“Jim, I believe it is in your best interest to rest as Dr. McCoy suggested. And to consume this…chicken noodle soup…that he has so vehemently insisted upon. I do not understand the logic behind this. As soup itself is not known to cure any form of the rhinovirus.” He set the tray down on the small serving table.

“It’s _comfort_ food, Spock. Kind of like when you want to eat Plomeek soup whenever you’re sick. It’s not logical. It doesn’t have to be.”

“On the contrary, Jim. Plomeek soup contains varying ingredients which are used to help sustain the optimal health of Vulcans.”

“Whatever you say, Spock. Now, bring that soup over before it gets cold.”

Spock hesitated, unsure how to approach Jim when he was currently reclined in his bed, sprawled on top of the covers in just a pair of sleeping pants. As if sensing Spock’s thoughts, Jim spoke. “I’d join you at the table, but Bones’ threatened to handcuff me to the bed if I didn’t stay in it. I wouldn’t put it past him to be somehow watching me right now to make sure I follow his orders.”

For reasons unknown, Spock could not think past the words _handcuff_ and _bed_. He blinked slowly, refusing to let his brain process the mental image that accommodated such words.

“Spock? If it makes you uncomfortable, I can get up. Fuck Bones.”

He was unaware of how long he had stood staring at Jim’s prone body. A frustratingly common occurrence now that he was in possession of knowledge pertaining to his…feelings. Not wanting his closest friend to become aware of such things, Spock aimed to distract Jim. “I’d rather you didn’t.”

Jim’s sudden burst of laughter was overwhelmingly pleasant to his ears. “Oh, hell Spock. Did you just make a joke?”

“Vulcans do not joke, Jim.” But he allowed that slight twitch of his lips to register so Jim would know the jesting continued.

“Right.” He laughed again, but stopped after only 5.6 seconds when it turned to a hacking cough instead.

“Jim!” Spock rushed to his side, feeling alarmed at the sound.

“It’s okay, I just need some water.”

Spock reached for the glass of water atop the small table next to Jim’s bed. “Here.” He lowered it to Jim’s mouth, helping him drink, and taking an undisclosed amount of pleasure at watching the water dribble down his chin. “You have spilled on yourself, Jim.” Spock picked up a napkin.

“I’m not a child, Spock. I can take care of myself.”

“And yet, you cannot even drink by yourself.” He reached forward with the cloth to wipe away the water.

“I could if you’d just let me.” Jim grumbled. “It’s not as if my-“ Jim cut off mid sentence as Spock’s finger accidentally brushed against bare skin.

“Forgive me.” Spock managed to keep his voice flat and devoid of any trace of emotion. How? He did not know. Because at the skin on skin contact, Spock felt an exceedingly large hum of pleasure rocket through his body. It was such a fleeting moment, lasting not even a full second. But it was enough. Not enough. He wanted more.

“Spock? What was that?”

“Pardon me, Captain, but I fail to ascertain the meaning behind your question. What was what?”

“ _That_. I felt…something. Did you feel it too?”

Not wanting to lie, Spock remained silent. He kept his most “serious business face,” as Jim called it, in place as he looked into those startlingly vivid blue eyes. He knew if he continued to stare and not say anything, Jim would question himself. Not the most honorable thing to do, Spock admitted to himself.

“Right. Must’ve been imagining things.” There was a slight flush to Jim’s cheeks.

“Do your symptoms worsen, Jim?”

“No, no, I’m fine.” Jim sniffled.

“You are flushed. Perhaps you are experiencing a fever. I am able to gauge your temperature if you would permit it.” Spock extended his hand towards Jim’s face, already erecting strong mental barriers. He would not allow himself to project any emotions onto Jim again.

“What? No. It’s okay. I’m not. I’m just…”

“You are just what, Jim?”

“Nothing. Never mind. Forget I said anything.”

“Unlikely, as my eidetic memory allows me perfect recall.” Spock saw the small upturn of lips that told him Jim found humor in the literal words Spock spoke.

“How about you bring that soup over here now?”

Spock understood the words for what they were, a change in topic. For whatever reason, Jim was uncomfortable. Spock turned around and moved back toward the serving table. As he reached out to pick up the soup, he heard Jim trying to discreetly blow his nose. Spock could not help the small smile as he listened, knowing Jim was embarrassed at having to do this in front of his First; knowing Jim would believe Spock found the display unpleasant. In truth, Spock could not help but be endeared at Jim’s human illness. He was most fortunate that his back was to Jim. It would not do to let Jim see his emotions.

Just before returning to Jim’s side, Spock paused to bring along a chair. He would remain at Jim’s side. He would make sure Jim ate all of the soup. He would make sure Jim slept. And after that, despite knowing he would prefer to stay, Spock would leave Jim to his peace and quiet.

\--

The sounds of Jim’s somewhat labored sleep filled the air. The once filled bowl of soup lay empty on the tray. Still, Spock hesitated. There was no logical reason to remain. Only that, in those last semi-coherent seconds before sleep overcomes, Jim had clutched onto Spock’s arm. And the warmth he felt from the simple gesture had made leaving an impossibility.

Jim looked so much younger in repose, face calm and free of any tension or frustration caused by his captaincy. His lips were slightly parted as he, no doubt, was breathing through his mouth due to nasal congestion. His blonde hair was matted to the side of his face that was currently pressed into the pillow. His dark lashes, longer than the average human male’s, fluttered against his cheeks from time to time. A dream, perhaps. Spock wondered if his closest friend ever dreamt of him.

The communicator in Jim’s room sounded, alarmingly loud in the relative silence, and Spock turned to make sure it had not awoken his Captain. Satisfied Jim had not been disturbed, Spock walked over to the console on Jim’s desk.

“Commander Spock here.”

“Spock?” Nyota’s voice came through sounding surprised. “You’re with the Captain?”

“Affirmative. The Captain is unwell and I have been tending to him.” Spock briefly wondered why he suddenly felt almost defensive in his response. “As he is now asleep, I am able to return to the bridge in the Captain’s stead.”

“That won’t be necessary, Mr. Spock.” Nyota now sounded amused. Fascinating. “There is a message from Starfleet, non-urgent. I’ll patch it through to the Captain’s quarters for his perusal whenever he wakes up. You just make sure our fine leader gets better soon. We’ll need him in top form before we reach Starbase 11.”

“Agreed. If you have nothing further to comment on…” Spock hesitated, wondering if Nyota would say anything else. When she did not, he continued. “Spock out.”

He felt relief that Jim had managed to sleep through the entirety of the exchange between himself and Nyota. Spock knew if Jim were to wake up now, he’d never go back to sleep. Especially knowing there was a message from Starfleet waiting for him. How like his friend to value the service over his own health. Though not only Spock, but Dr. McCoy as well, tended to reprimand Jim for his behavior, they were both in agreement. Jim made an excellent captain for this exact reason.

“Spock?” His focus returned to Jim, expecting to find his friend awake. But Jim’s eyes remained closed. The only difference was the furrow in Jim’s brow.

“Jim?” Spock whispered the name, not wanting to disturb.

“C-c-cold.” Four long strides and Spock was back in the chair beside Jim’s bed.

“I am here, Jim.” He did not know why he spoke aloud since Jim could not hear him in his sleep.

“So warm. Mm.” One hand reached out to grab onto Spock, forcing him to lean towards the bed. “Stay here.”

Spock had not known his friend talked in his sleep. Most fascinating. Unable to deny his Captain even in this, especially in this, Spock moved closer. He now sat perched on the very edge of the chair, the metal digging uncomfortably into his gluteus maximus. Still, he dare not shift his position lest it take him away from Jim.

“More.” Now the second hand had found its way onto Spock’s other arm. Spock was being tugged closer and closer by two hands he had dared not even hope to have on him in a manner outside their working relationship.

Completely off the chair now, Spock’s knees were pressed into the mattress. He estimated being able to remain in this position for only another 5.34 minutes before having to move. Then Jim spoke again.

“Please.”

Spock allowed himself to be tugged closer again, to the point that he was actually reclining on the bed next to Jim. Bent at the waist, his back against the headboard, and his legs straight out in front of him, Spock hoped this was enough to comfort Jim. He did not know what Jim would do if he woke to find Spock in his bed.

“Mm, so warm. So nice. Spock.”

Spock could feel the heat rise to his face, feel the warmth permeate around the tips of his ears, and knew he was most unfortunately blushing at the sound of Jim’s voice. He wanted to hear more. He feared to hear more. What would he do if he heard more? His control was always so strained whenever in Jim’s presence. Their acute proximity only heightened the loss of all Spock’s Vulcan training. He would detest his half human heritage if he wasn’t so grateful for it. Without his humanity, would he ever have allowed himself to get so close to Jim?

\--

Spock felt his mind rouse from sleep. He was unaware of having succumbed to the need to rest. He attributed the ease in which he fell asleep to the body pressed against him.

“Jim.” The name came out almost harsh, as Spock’s vocal chords had gone unused for 4.8 hours. He expected to hear Jim respond. When he did not, Spock opened his eyes to look down at his friend.

Only then did he realize that he could not look down at Jim. He could not because he was lying down _with_ Jim. His head was on Jim’s pillow. Jim’s head was on Spock’s shoulder. Their legs had somehow become entwined during sleep. And Jim’s right arm was draped across Spock’s torso, resting over his heart.

Which was beating at an increased rate of 3.25%.

Spock tried to pull away, only to feel Jim’s grip on him tighten. The chances of moving out of Jim’s grasp without him waking up were too high. He could only begin to imagine how Jim would react to finding them in bed together.

He reached down to Jim’s hand. He planned to lightly take hold of it and move Jim’s arm off of him so that he could slip out of bed unnoticed. He had not anticipated Jim’s action. For once Spock wrapped his fingers lightly around Jim’s wrist, he felt Jim’s fingers move and clench onto his hand. Their hands were clasped together, fingers woven together.

Spock’s heart rate increased by another 4.33%

Try as he might, Spock was unable to keep his fingers from moving. His index finger trailed up Jim’s, stroking the smooth skin over and over. What would it feel like to have Jim reciprocate the gesture? If only – but no, it was illogical to hope for that which was unattainable. That didn’t stop Spock from continuing to take that which was not freely given.

“I know what that means.” Jim’s voice, low and scratchy, startled Spock.

He stopped his ministrations immediately. “Forgive me, Captain, I-“

“Oh no. You aren’t allowed to call me Captain mere seconds after kissing me. Doesn’t seem right.”

“You are correct. I should never have done so.” Shame battled with anxiety at the forefront of Spock’s emerging emotions. He also felt luck at not having to see Jim’s face at the moment. If he had to endure seeing disgust on his friend’s face, Spock knew he would not be able to maintain the relationship they currently enjoyed. “May I enquire as to where you learned the meaning behind this gesture?”

“Sure. Uhura told me.”

“Nyota?” Spock made to move away from Jim, to pull his hand away and conceal it behind his back before he foolishly tried to repeat his inappropriate actions. But Jim held tight, surprisingly strong for a human.

“Yeah, I asked her awhile back after seeing her do that to you once.” When had Jim witnessed an exchange like that? “Remember Draygo IV? You were injured when you pushed me out of the way of a rockslide. I refused to leave you alone in sickbay. Drove Bones bat shit crazy.”

Spock had not been made aware of this fact.

“Anyway, Uhura came in and all but kicked me out. I saw her touch her fingers to yours. I was curious. But I didn’t ask until more recently. Because, well, she’s pretty damn observant. And I’m fairly certain she would’ve realized why I was asking.”

“And why _were_ you asking?” Spock lost track of the rate in which his heart beat in his side as Jim’s index finger mimicked the motion previously acted out by Spock’s.

“Because. I have this huge _illogical_ crush on my First.”

Spock was not one to give way to such colorful thoughts as similes, but he felt as if his heart had suddenly frozen in place at what Jim had just admitted. He knew what a crush was. Or at least, was familiar with one of the word’s uses. He still sought clarification.

“A crush, Jim?”

Both of their hands had shifted, Jim holding out his first two fingers to Spock, making himself open and available to the kisses Spock was now freely giving out.

“Yes, Spock. A crush. Don’t pretend you don’t know what that means. Unless of course, you don’t feel the same way. Then by all means, assume I was talking about something else.”

“I…” The words caught in his throat. Could he really tell Jim how he felt? Would Jim accept him still? Spock took solace in the fact that Jim had been the first to say something. “…believe I also have a crush on you, Jim.”

Jim lifted off of Spock’s chest for the first time, face now hovering only 12.7 centimeters above Spock’s. “Yeah?”

Spock could only nod. They were so close. It would only take minimal effort on his part to elevate his body enough to bring their lips together. The thought was dizzying.

“That’s great news.” Jim bent down quickly, not giving time for Spock to second guess the intention behind it. “I’m going to kiss you the human way now.”

A brush of lips against lips was all Spock felt at first, his eyes having closed in response to the sensation. He wondered why Jim chose now to hesitate.

“Jim?” He tried to keep the want and need out of his voice. He did not succeed, however, judging from the look in those blue eyes he had come to admire so much.

“Just making sure.” Spock felt, as well as heard, the words spoken against his lips. “I just can’t believe I have you. In my bed. After months of pining over you like some love sick teenager.”

“Jim.” He paused to make sure Jim was listening. “I did not believe talking to be part of human kissing.” He allowed himself to actually smile at Jim, hoping the reaction would be positive.

“Oh my God, you’re gorgeous,” Jim breathed against Spock’s lips again.

The press of lips on lips was harder this time, as both men sought out their pleasure from the kiss. Jim sucked Spock’s bottom lip into his mouth, adding just enough pressure to make him crave more. When he felt a soft, human tongue glide over the moistened lip, Spock’s mouth dropped open from the groan he barely repressed.

“Mm.” Jim murmured into Spock’s mouth, taking that tongue and stroking it against his slightly rougher one.

He was lost, utterly and completely lost, to the sensation of kissing Jim. He did not believe it possible to take such pleasure from a kiss. That is, until Jim began stroking his fingers against Spock’s again. The dual sensations were enough to bring all of Spock’s barriers crashing down. With no hope of concealing himself from Jim, Spock’s emotions, his feelings for his closest friend, went rushing through their mutual touch.

Panting, Jim pulled away. “Shit, what was that?”

“That is how I feel about you, Jim.”

“Oh Christ. Want you. Want you so bad, Spock.”

Jim moved so his entire body was now on top of Spock. Their hips were pressed together and Spock could feel the hardness of Jim’s erection against his own.

“Jim, I do not believe we should engage in any further activity.” A sudden, rather obvious, thought struck Spock.

“What? Why the fuck not?” Jim rocked forward, sliding against Spock’s body and creating a very pleasurable friction between them.

“You are ill.”

“Psh, not sick enough to not want you. In any and all ways. Spock, you have no idea how much I love…” Jim stopped suddenly, eyes widening at his own words. “…you.”

As gently as he could, with no more thoughts of stopping, Spock rolled them over so that he now lay on top of Jim. That feeling, that indefinable something Spock so desperately needed to figure out, made itself known.

“And I, you, t’hy’la.” He could tell that, despite not knowing what the word meant, Jim was pleased at Spock’s admission. Jim smiled and brought his hands to Spock’s head. His hands ran through the thick black hair, pulling Spock closer to his mouth to resume kissing.

“What do you want, Spock?” He had never seen his friend look so vulnerable before.

“I wish to take care of you, Jim.”

“In what way?”

“As you said previously: in any and all ways. Now, kindly be quiet. I wish to continue our kissing.” Spock lowered himself, mindful of the fact that he was denser than Jim. He brought his face down to Jim’s taking the initiative this time; his lips and his tongue finding their way through the kiss. Whenever Jim moaned in response, Spock knew he was successful in his actions.

“Please, Spock, I need more.” Jim’s body was arching off the mattress, seeking contact with Spock’s.

“Yes,” Spock managed to mutter as he kissed lower, alternating between licks and bites along the corded muscles of Jim’s neck. His hands moved down, letting his fingers absorb the feel of Jim’s torso, smooth and soft against sensitive pads of skin.

“You feel so good, so hot. God, Spock. More.”

His mouth went to Jim’s left nipple, feeling the human heartbeat against his lips. When he licked around the hardened nipple, Jim let out a ragged breath. His index and thumb pinched the right nipple, feeling a shockwave of pleasure ricochet through his body; experiencing Jim’s reactions through his telepathy.

“T’hy’la,” was the only thing Spock could think to say, expressing his need and desire through that one word. J

im gasped out when Spock’s hands found the trail of hair that led down and disappeared underneath plaid pajama pants. To be the one to illicit such strong physical reactions out of James T. Kirk was a heady thing.

“Yeah, you make me feel so good.”

Spock was at first shocked at Jim’s words, not realizing his thoughts were somewhat more readable through touch. When he realized how perceptive Jim was, however, Spock was overwhelmingly pleased.

“Good is not acceptable, Jim.” Spock loosened the drawstrings on Jim’s pants. “I strive for excellence in all I do.” With that, he tugged down the soft plaid, exposing Jim’s hardened penis to his eyes for the first time.

It was long and thick, a darker pink than the rest of Jim’s skin –an almost purple color at the head - and seemed to twitch as Spock’s hands drew nearer. As if silently inviting Spock to touch it. Spock wrapped his hand around it, squeezing softly, testing Jim’s limits to his strength.

“Nngg.” Jim made a strangled noise as Spock’s hand moved slowly up the length of his penis. “Faster, Spock.”When he complied, the frequency and volume of Jim’s noises increased.

He was in awe as he watched Jim writhe and pant under him. Spock could not decide between staring at Jim’s face or Jim’s penis. While Jim was flushed from his arousal, eyes shut tight, and mouth open in a silent “o” of pleasure, Jim’s penis was hard in Spock’s hand, the tip leaking drops of pre-ejaculate. Spock rubbed the silky liquid around the head, enjoying the feel of it on his fingertips and the subtle clenching of Jim’s hands in Spock’s command tunic. He wondered what it would taste like to have Jim in his mouth. So, logically, it was necessary for him to pull his hand away and bring a finger to his mouth. An experiment of sorts, to taste.

Jim whimpered at first, missing the hot hand that was close to bringing him off, when he looked up and caught on to what Spock was doing. Spock’s tongue was slowly lapping at his index finger, tasting the pre come.

“Oh fuck, that’s hot.”

“The taste is not unpleasant.” Spock licked his finger again, knowing Jim enjoyed watching the display.

“God…damn. C’mere.” Jim pulled Spock back down to his mouth, kissing and tasting himself on Spock’s tongue.

When Spock began to stroke him again, Jim let out a groan and spoke. “Want you to come too, baby. Please.”

Spock nodded, allowing Jim to reach forward and undue the clasp and zipper of his trousers. Up until this point, Spock had purposely not removed any of his clothes, afraid of how Jim would respond to his Vulcan anatomy. If Jim did not like what he saw, Spock would be, to use the vernacular, heartbroken.

“Wow.” Jim had pushed trouser and underwear down past Spock’s thighs, leaving him painfully exposed to Jim’s scrutiny. He watched as Jim reached out tentatively, barely using fingertips to touch his erect penis. “It’s so hot. And green.”

Spock closed his eyes, waiting for Jim to recoil in disgust. “Yes. It is.”

“Hey, you’re not worried that I don’t like it, are you?” Jim looked up at Spock’s face. “You are, aren’t you?” When Spock still did not respond, Jim continued. “You silly, gorgeous Vulcan. I like your cock. It’s really hot. And I’m not just talking about in temperature. Every part of you is so fucking hot. Lemme show you how much I like your body.”

The tension Spock had felt previously, fled as Jim began to stroke his penis. He could not help thrusting into Jim’s tight fist anymore than he could help reaching down to grab hold of Jim’s. Spock wanted to feel the slide of Jim’s erection against his own, to have both of their hands bring them to completion. He projected an image of his hand wrapped around both penises, Jim’s hand adding to the pleasure as he placed it atop Spock’s. Jim must have caught on to what Spock desired – touch telepathy indeed proved useful during sex – because he pulled Spock down closer to his body and let go so that Spock could grip onto both of them at once.

“Fuck, Spock. Feels so good. Yeah, just like that. Keep going.”

Jim placed both hands on the outside of Spock’s, pumping up and down in time with Spock’s hand. The rhythm they set was maddening, the friction irresistible. Spock had never experienced such a strong physical pull before. He knew that it had to do with Jim, his t’hy’la, sharing this with Spock. The love/want/need Spock felt on both sides was too much, too overpowering. Before he fully realized what was happening, Spock felt Jim tense in his hands. He looked down and watched as thick streams of semen shot out of Jim’s penis, hitting Spock’s tunic, coating both of their hands. The residual pleasure from Jim’s completion was enough to set off Spock’s. Three more hard jerks and Spock was coming against Jim. He allowed himself to slowly, almost lazily stroke them both, squeezing out the last drops of come, relishing the feel of thick liquid coating his fingers.

“Oh wow. Just…wow. That was the most intense orgasm I’ve ever had.”

“I concur.” Spock rolled off of Jim, not wishing to crush his more fragile human body. His eyes slid closed as a heavy wave of exhaustion threatened to overtake him. Light laughter made his eyes snap open.

“Only you, Spock,” Jim responded when he saw Spock’s questioning eyes. “Who says ‘I concur’ after sex?”

“It would seem obvious that I do.”

“Yeah, that’s kinda why I love you so much.” Jim’s eyes drooped with fatigue, missing the answering smile on Spock’s face.

“We should clean ourselves up, Jim.”

“Mhm, in a minute. Too tired right now.”

A minute turned into many more, Spock was unsure of the exact amount of time that had elapsed. He was jarred awake by the feel of a warm, wet cloth running along his groin. He shivered from the contrast of the cold air hitting his naked skin.

“Jim?”

“Sorry, I didn’t realize we’d fall asleep. Guess I was more tired than I realized.”

“I assure you, Jim, it is al..al...” Spock’s word was interrupted by a forceful sneeze. “…right.” He looked up at Jim and saw alarmed blue eyes.

“Oh shit, Spock. I got you sick.”

“Negative, Jim. Vulcans are not susceptible to the same viruses that Humans are.” It was unfortunate that Spock sneezed once more after speaking, seemingly negating his statement.

“You are half human, ya know. So probably you’re half susceptible to the common cold.”

Spock could feel his nasal passages congesting, the pressure in his sinus cavities producing a headache, and his body experiencing a worse than normal chill. He could not suppress the shiver that ran from head to toe. “Your argument is, most regrettably, sound.”

“Aww, my poor Vulcan baby is sick!” Jim looked far too pleased at the turn of events. “Get under the covers. I’ll go get some water and tissues for you. If it’s anything like what I have, you’ll need plenty.”

“Thank you, Jim.”

“God, you’re voice is already all stuffed up. It’s so cute. I love it.” Spock silently disagreed. “Do you want anything else while I’m up?”

Spock hesitated for a full five seconds before responding.

“Perhaps a bowl of Plomeek soup?”


End file.
